A Phone Call Away
by The Sabbit
Summary: After an argument, Bakura wonders about how close a simple machine can make you, no matter the distance, be it by hand or heart. Shortfic, Tendershipping RyouBakura.
1. Chapter 1 Bakura

A Phone Call Away

A/N: Just kind of popped out of a plot-bunny hole in the ground and whispered to be written. Should probably be updating my other stories, but I just don't have any material. Except for Sound the Bugle, but I just updated that anyway.

Summery: Bakura wonders about how close a simple machine can make you, no matter the distance, be it by hand or heart. Shortfic, Tendershipping Ryou/Bakura.

Disclaimer: I own a telephone.. But it's not the one in the story. I don't own the Yu-Gi-Oh characters, but that'd be nice. Hey, Christmas is in two days.

* * *

The door had slammed with a resounding thud two hours ago yesterday. 26 hours ago. We did it again. Well, I did it again. Why do I have to make him so angry? What is wrong with me that I cannot just cherish silently his happy little smiles? Why do I always have to spit out some mean, unnecessary remark? Why do I always have to start the arguments? Why me? Just, why?

I turn away from the door, so still and silent. Staring at the doorknob does not make it turn. Pacing in the room will not make him come home. I know he will. He always does. But not happy.

I turn my glare to the creamy colored telephone. We still have what the boy calls an old model, but to me it is still fascinating. I do not show him this, of course, but when he is not home, and I get to answer, it does not matter to me that it has a short, curly cord attached to it, or that we do not have call waiting. Someone else's voice is coming through a tiny speaker from so many miles away. From anywhere. Sometimes it is my little one, and I hide my delighted grin from my voice. I expect to look up and see the person talking to me, but it never happens.

"Only a phone call away," is what some people say. "If you ever need me, I'm only a phone call away." "If he ever hurts you, we're only a phone call away." "If you ever want to get rid of him, you know how easy it is. Just pick up and dial, we'll be right over."

They do not think I can hear them, but I can. Omote pretends not to notice how angry they make me, or how it feels when they twist the proverbial knife, because I pretend not to feel it. I make the mistake of, one time, raising my hand to the boy in anger, and they never let me forget it. Or him, either. I was not even going to hit him, they just walked on in like they owned the place and saw me, and assumed the obvious.

Jounouchi, of all people, seemed to be the most angry, next to the King of Games himself. Like the idiot had never hurt anyone before. And the Pharaoh, pure sacrificial lamb that he is, seemed personally insulted that I would "dare harm a hair on his friend's head." The littler one just seemed pitying to my light, putting a comforting arm around his shoulder. I had begged his silently to tell them that they were wrong, but, as you may assume, it was in the middle of a very serious argument, and he was furious with me. He played meek and sad, and they lapped it up.

Since then, he has tried to convince them of their misconception, but to no avail. I never hit him, he's told them, but they shake their heads and think to themselves about how he must just be trying to cover for me, like he is afraid of me or something.

Really, he isn't. Not usually. Once, though, a very long time ago, he was afraid. Oh, he was terrified. He thought I was going to kill him, and I thought I was honestly thought I was going to kill him, too. This was just after he had defied me in the middle of my first Shadow Game with the Pharaoh's current incarnation. I broke thing, I screamed, I swore, I even pulled a knife out of my sleeve and threatened him with it.

But I did not touch him. Did not touch him once. That was what _I_ was afraid to do. To touch him would make him real, and to have him be real to me would make it possible to sympathize with him. I just could not hurt him. I did not know why then, but I think I may know now. His eyes.

The boy had always had beautiful eyes. Beautiful. Green, hazelish, expressive, honest, understanding. Even to me. Especially to me. I still do not know why he would not hate me, no matter what I did. But that night he looked at me without any of the emotion he had at any other time I had been mad at him. They were stark, straight green, and the only expression in them was fear. At that one moment he had stopped trying to understand, stopped trying to be compassionate, and stopped caring at all for anything. For that one particular moment I turned an angel into nothing more than an animal that can already hear it's own death cry.

I ripped apart some foliage, threw some harmless articles at him, and mentally threw him into his soul room. All of this took place inside of my own soul room, because at the time I had no physical body of my own. But what happens to the mind affects the body. If I had killed his soul there, his body would have died.

Now, after another screaming fit, he had stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard it rattled the furniture. I continue to stare at the phone.

Hikari, my light, I am sorry.

I sit down on the sofa grudgingly next to the device. A phone call away.

There is no one to see the slight lapse in strength that is my draping my torso over the arm of the couch, my arms resting on the coffee table.

Ryou, wherever you are, please call.

Please, I am so sorry. You have never been away so long without any hint of where you are. I am… I am worried, Omote.

I rest my head of my arms and sigh into the soft material of the couch.

Please, koishii.

I am only a phone call away.

* * *

Written in about 10-15 minutes. Nothing special, but not long enough to really waste anyone's time if they took two minutes to read it. Just a thought-fic, really. I think I'll write Ryou's end, too. Maybe I'll do that now and post it later. Please review, constructive criticism welcomed. 


	2. Chapter 2 Ryou

A Phone Call Away

A/N: Same night written as the last chapter, but since I got a couple reviews, and it's Christmas, I figured I'd post it now instead of in a week like I had originally planned. Merry Christmas!

Summery: I may up the rating for this chapter just a tad. Funny, Ryou curses more than Bakura did. But Ryou is angry, and Bakura was remorseful and sad. So Ryou's got an excuse to be pissy.

Disclaimer: Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, cast, or a phone line of my own. Not even a cell phone. I weep.

* * *

How could he? That _bastard_. I didn't even _do_ anything this time! My father sent me a nice new sweater for Christmas, the _one _thing I get form him all year. I go put it on, ask him- not even seriously- how I look, and the only thing he can say is 'Who's corpse did you hack that thing off of?' What is _wrong_ with him? 

Alright, I understand the fact that his past affects how he is. I accept that, because in his early childhood his family was murdered before him seriously damaged his way to be expressive and loving, but does he have to be just… just _mean_ when all I want is a smile? Is that really all that much to ask?

Now, I didn't storm out just because he said my dad's sweater was ugly. I was insulted, yes, and it grew from there. Indignant, I demanded that he apologize and of course he refused. I think this is what we do when we get bored. Piss each other off. We started arguing, then yelling, and before I knew it I was out the door. Again.

I have got to get my mind off of it. I'll move on, like I always do, but right now I need to find someplace warm. I had barely enough time to yank my coat off the rack by the door. I think I may have pulled it down. It's snowing outside, and my hands and face feel bitten by the cold. Malik has gone back to Egypt for the winter, I don't blame him, and he was the only one who didn't freak out every time he heard that Bakura and I had a fight. My choices were now limited to undesirable.

Anywhere I went, Yami no Yugi would find out. Then, if he were in a particularly bad mood, he would march right over to my front door and demand that Bakura explain himself. I appreciate his concern, but it really isn't his business. It isn't any of their business.

I'll get a motel room, my wallet is in this coat pocket and I have enough for one night. I'll think of what to do in the morning. Of course, I already know what I'll do. I'll go right back home when the sun warms everything up. My mother used to say that everything looks better by daylight. I'll wait for tomorrow.

Checked in, bundled up in comforter from the bed, I curl up in front of the radiator. It is still cold inside my cheap room, so I do what I can to stay warm. Hang up my wet clothes, take a hot shower, drink some tea. I don't even have a book to read, and I just cannot sleep. I keep thinking of once, a few weeks ago, after our last fight I came home earlier than I thought I would. Bakura was sleeping on the couch in the front room. I guess he had tried to stay up and wait for me. I wonder if he's waiting for me right now.

I glance over to my right at the false wooden night stand. On it there is a light yellow phone, similar in make to my own. Maybe I'll call, I think. I stand up, the blanket around my shoulders, and cross to the bed. Sitting down, I look deeply at the device, hoping it will pick itself up and dial, because I just don't have the courage. To call would be to give in, to be sorry. I refused to do that this time.

An internal struggle as I wrestle with my thoughts. He knows where I won't go, but he has no clue where I am. He may be worried, I shouldn't make him worry, it's not right to make him worry. It's not kind.

Well, neither is he.

I turn away, trying to look angrily at the opposite wall. There is a picture of a Victorian lady in a garden with roses all around her. Funny, although we never had a garden and could never grow roses, that is how I think of my mother. Graceful, elegant, beautiful and permanent. I just cannot stay angry. I am already sad that I left in such a way. I look to the floor, then back to the phone.

Standing up, I begin to pace. I do that a lot, I think I picked it up from Bakura. I never walk as straight as he does, though, ending up making thin figure 8s on the carpeted floor.

I sigh again, then look at the phone.

Relief is only a phone call away, I think. I could call, say I'm sorry and I want to go home. He will walk all the way here, I know it, just so I won't have to walk back alone. He can't drive, he refuses to learn, but he'll hold my hand when we walk.

Just a phone call away, just like Yugi.

I remember the time that ruined whatever chance they might have had befriending my darkness. Another stupid fight. I don't even remember what it was about, but he had gotten so mad that he raised his hand as if preparing to backhand me. I, thinking he was really going to, flinched. Yugi picked just that moment to open the door and step happily into my living room, bringing with him Jounouchi and his own darker half.

The small boy was instantly at my side, held my arms in a protective friendly embrace while the Pharaoh took charge of the situation.

It didn't go well. Admittedly, it was my own fault. I could have defended him, they might have believed me then if I had said that he wouldn't have really hurt me, but I said nothing. Now that I want them to get along, Yugi always fixes me with a pitying glance whenever I say that they just don't understand him. I am really sorry for that.

I reach out for the phone, then pull my hand back. So close, but so far. Cliché. Bakura, I want to call so bad. I want to let you know that I am safely indoors, that I didn't get hit by a car, and that I didn't go running to Yugi. I want to let you know that I will be home soon.

I would be so much easier if he could call here, but he doesn't know where 'here' is.

No. No, I need this time alone as much as I want to go back. I need time to myself.

I lay down on the soft bed at last, pulling the blanket around me tightly, my eyes fixed on the phone.

Goodnight, Bakura. I love you. I know I'm not with you, but try to get some sleep. You need alone time, too.

And if I need you, I know that, at least you are only a phone call away.

I'll just call and tell you where I am, and you will run here so quickly that the snow will melt.

I know that isn't true, but it is nice to think about as I drift off into an uneasy sleep.

You are only a phone call away, but that just isn't close enough.

* * *

…not as good as the first one, I think, but I didn't get it beta'd like I should have. Find any mistakes, just point them out and I'll try to fix 'em. And there may be more to come. Remember, when Bakura is fretting it's because a whole day has gone by without hearing from Ryou. So maybe 'just a phone call away' isn't as close as they would like to think. Maybe the next chapter will be about Ryou's day alone, and when he finally goes home. I dunno. Sap. It depends on you guys, the reviewers! 


	3. Chapter 3

A Phone Call Away

A/N: Wow. Lazy, much? Procrastination sounds nice. Dunno why I took so long, I guess I got caught up in X-mas, then just….I dunno, maybe someone ate my plot bunny. Reading it back over, they seem a little out-of-character. You know, I have to adore those authors who can really flesh out a character and a story. For some reason, most of what I write feels kind of… flat. Generic. Paper-cut-outs and things. I dunno. So… X-mas in July, anyone? This one's from 3rd person, instead of character POV.

This is a kind of first draft. It's late, I can't sleep, and I feel bad for not updating anything since Christmas. So if you read this and beta it for me, then email or review with some tips to improve it, I'd love you forever and stuff. Then I'll fix it up some time, put up a chapter 3 2.0, lol.

Summery: Bakura wonders about how close a simple machine can make you, no matter the distance, be it by hand or heart. Shortfic, Tendershipping Ryou/Bakura.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't even have a cell phone. Feel my sadness radiating from your computer screen.

* * *

The first rays of sun shine crept their way into Ryou's blinded window at an angle. Ryou hadn't been able to sleep, and instead mulled for hours over the petty words thrown the previous night, and wondered how his darkness was fairing. Probably eating, he thought as his stomach sounded his own hunger.

The snowy sky from last night had cleared up, and if he had felt like drawing the blinds, Ryou would see that the whole world had a positively cheerful appearance this morning. The sky was a bright, cold blue, and the snow sparkled on the lawns. He felt more like the parking lots; dreary slush and mud. At least his body felt clean after the shower. He was tired, but couldn't sleep, especially now that it was morning. He threw another glance at the cheap phone on the even cheaper bedside table and decided that he wouldn't even think about it anymore. Today he was going to spend some time on himself.

Searching picking up his jacket and looking in his wallet, he figured he had enough money for a small breakfast. He got up his few things and left, making sure to turn in the key at the office.

He wandered down the quiet road, occasionally passing a few people out for early shopping and other wanderers like himself. The bakery was just opening, and he bought himself a warm sticky bun and tea for breakfast. As he sat nibbling, determined not to think of Bakura, he wondered what he was going to do all day. He could always spend the day with Yugi, he thought with a wince. He didn't have to tell him why. Just say that he felt like shopping. It wouldn't matter that he had little money. He checked the time. Kami game shop would open in an hour, he would go then.

* * *

Ryou stood in front of the Kami Game Shop, now unsure as to whether or not this was a good idea. He was sure he looked a terrible mess, having spent the night in the clothes he left the house and went stalking through the snow in. He hadn't even been able to properly comb his hair, although he had tried his best to make it look smooth and presentable. That was nearly impossible with his unruly hair anyway, so it didn't make an incredible difference. Finally plastering on what he hoped was a bright, cheerful smile, he pushed open the door.

The sound of a bell greeted him. "Ohayo, Yugi-kun," he said with a smile. The shorter boy was piling a few boxes of game cards and looked up at his name.

"Bakura-kun, what brings you out here so early?" he asked in a friendly way, though his eyes blinked curiously about his usually neat friend's rough appearance.

"Not much," the white-haired boy replied, unwavering. "Just thought I'd like to see how you were doing this morning."

"Wow, someone looks like they've been through hell," came Jounouchi's voice from the door into the house.

Ryou blinked, though he knew he shouldn't be surprised to see him here so early. The two best friends were rarely seen apart. "Ohayo, Jounouchi-kun."

The blonde clapped him across the shoulders in greeting. "What're you doing here, Bakura?"

"Well, not much, really," he answered, refraining from flinching. "I just haven't seen anyone in a few days, and I was wondering if maybe we could spend some time together?" he finished weakly.

Yugi looked as though he knew it was more than that, but said nothing more than, "I do have to work today, but you can hang out here if you like."

That was a slight relief. Thinking over his own idea, he didn't want to explain why he wanted go shopping with no money, and that he couldn't go home to get more.

"Sure, I'd like that," he said simply. "Need any help?"

"Oh, would you, really? I've got a ton to do, and I'm supposed to be on the register today," Yugi exclaimed with a bright smile. Ryou felt his shoulders sag in relief. Work would take his mind off of Bakura, and he could spend time indoors with food and friends. He nodded and set right to work sorting boxes, stocking shelves, and taking inventory.

6'o'clock came, closing time on Wednesday. It had been a busy day, with Christmas approaching. Yugi said that, as payment for all his hard work, Grandpa wouldn't mind if Ryou picked something out for himself, as long as it wasn't anything too expensive. Ryou couldn't help but look for something Bakura might like for a gift, but ended up picking out a few slightly rare duel monsters cards for their decks.

"So, um, how's the spirit of the ring?" wondered Yugi as they sat around the kitchen table. Yugi had made the three of them ramen to eat, and they were all hungry.

"He's.. alright," was the uneasy response. Ryou tried to sound light, adding, "He's probably bored to tears all by himself all day." It bothered him slightly that they never called him by name, but then again it might be a little confusing to call the both of them Bakura. His friends hardly ever called him by his first name.

Truthfully he hoped Bakura was worried about him, at least a little. He had no way of knowing that his other half was on the verge of working himself into a depression with boredom and anxiety. Usually Ryou would have come back sometime before the next night, and he still didn't want to go back just yet, not even to change his clothes. This would probably be the longest he'd ever been away. It wasn't that he was angry anymore, he just wanted to show Bakura that he wasn't the predictable, needy vessel he sometimes accused him of being.

"Hey, Yugi-kun," he asked suddenly, "Do you think I could maybe borrow some of Jounouchi-kun's clothes and spend the night?"

Yugi blinked, surprised. "I.. guess." he said slowly. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all, I just feel like being a little spontaneous, and it's been forever since I spent the night away from home." Just a small lie wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Don't you think you should call home and let him know where you are?" Yugi asked.

Ryou cast a brief glance at the phone on the wall, forcing away the memories of last night. "No. He'll be fine," he answered, maybe a little coolly.

"I got clean clothes here you could use," Jou offered, and Ryou was grateful. He couldn't stand the thought of another day in these dirty clothes, and nothing Yugi owned could ever fit him.

Suddenly realizing that he had been absent al day, he asked, "Where is Yami no Yugi-kun?"

"He's on a trip with Grandpa. They went to a convention to show mou hitori no boku what it's like, and I stayed behind to watch the store." Yugi beamed, obviously proud of being left in charge. It still made Ryou smile to hear Yugi refer to the dark one as 'the other me,' even though they had separate bodies now. Secretly he was grateful, the pharaoh's presence could be overbearing and intimidating at times, although he was friendly towards Ryou.

So the three boys camped out on the couches that night, staying up late watching movies and sharing snacks. Jounouchi's clothes were a big large for Ryou, and draped loosely over his slight frame, but they were comfortable and clean. He even managed to not think about Bakura at all, unaware of the fact that, in his own house, the spirit was wishing his light would call and assure him that he was safe. They fell asleep at around 2, when they ran out of videos, energy, and things to talk about.

* * *

Bakura groaned softly and opened one eye. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa again, and his back and neck were stiff. Looking around blearily, he checked for signs that the boy had come home. Coat still gone, coat rack still on the floor, door not locked. No, he was still gone. He was almost quite done feeling sorry, and now was more concerned with where the boy had spent the night. No one had come barging in demanding an explaination, that ruled out a few options. No one had called, either. He pouted slightly, still groggy with sleep. Stupid boy, where did you go?

But he would worry about that more when he was fully awake. Right now he wanted food. Bacon, if possible, but his light was not here to cook for him, and Bakura did not like the electric stovetop. He would have liked getting a gas oven better, but this was the stove the apartment had, and Ryou said that they did not need a new one. Maybe Bakura should make them need a new one, but not right now. The boy was already angry with him.

He threw some of the greasy cold strips on a paper towel and a plate and tossed them into the microwave, the simplest thing he could think of. They wouldn't be crispy, but it was meat, and it would be warm.

It had been cold all last night. He hoped that the boy wasn't stupid enough to spend the night in some doorway, or out in the open. He ripped a piece of the greasy meat with his teeth, not bothering to blot it on the paper first.

He glanced again at the phone, not admitting to himself that he still wanted Ryou to call. It mocked him with it's silence, and he turned away with a narrowed eye. Whatever the foolish child did it was not his business, he forced himself to decide and tried to push last night into the back of his mind.

For Ryou, day made things seem better. For Bakura, they forced things into the stark, cold light of brute honesty. Nothing changed when the sun came up, you could just see it clearer. Night was the time to be folded up inside your thoughts, silently feed off of them. Day was the time to act, be rational, and not think too hard on little things. It had always been this way. Nighttime was for drama, the daylight was for living.

On good mornings, the boy would greet him with a smile and hug, however unresponsive or half-conscious Bakura might be. Then he would make breakfast for the two of them. Only on bad days did he really like the good days.

If he had been the type to do so, Bakura would have sighed. However long it took his ex-host to come home, he would have no choice but to wait. He had already spent one full day in anxiety and guilt, he was determined not to spend today similarly. Though there wasn't much else to do. One day alone, and Bakura had already begun to get a little stir-crazy. Maybe he could blame his emotional night on ennui.

He pushed his pointed fingers through his hair. He allowed himself to hope that Ryou would come back today and not make him wait any longer, and ate another strip of bacon.

* * *

A/N: Yeah.. Kinda sucks.. Hope no one's too disappointed. Again, please, TELL me where I mess up, what seems OOC, I want to improve, but it's hard if nobody ever corrects me. .

Oh, and if you want to read an EXTRAORDINARY tendershippy fiction, zip on over to "Powerless" by Ochodre. She's a phenomenal author, and everything about the story blows me completely away. The plot is deep and engaging, everyone's awesomely in character, and it's just -so- realistic .. I'm not sure how fiction is realistic, but it is. All of her stories rock, really. And she updates more than I do. Lol.


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